Road to Reunion
by TheWomanWhoCodesAndWrites
Summary: Post Champion-epilogue. "I think she still has something for me - well, at least I hope so. But if she doesn't, I know I won't back off this time. I'm going to ask her if she'll give us another chance. If she'll give me one more chance to make her love me again." An encore to the epic love story of Daniel "Day" Altan Wing and June Iparis, as told in Legend Trilogy. A novella.
1. Day (1)

**Quick AN: **Okay, so each of us must have our own headcanon about what happened after Champion, yeah? Well, here is mine. Hope y'all enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to the amazingly talented Marie Lu, one of the select few authors who could wring my heart dry.

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**Day**

My brother Eden thinks I'm cracked.

But he has been called in for another round of interview this afternoon, and no one is here to talk me out of my plans. I'm free to wander around Los Angeles as I like. Lake, Alta, Winter, Nima, Tanagashi, even Batalla and the Gem Sectors; I can go anywhere nowadays. I still have to blend in, because apparently I have enough fans to rival that singer Lincoln now, but I'm as free as the rainbow bird perched on the balcony railing before me. All I need to do is get back into the apartment, change out of these old clothes, write a note to Eden that I'll be back later, and set off.

And get ready for a backlash or a rejection from this woman called June.

I met her yesterday, and was head over heels in a matter of hours. Sounds like any other story, yeah? But I'm not your average twenty seven year old. Ten years ago, I was dying of brain tumour, and doctors had to cut some lumps out of my brain to save my life. Along with the lumps, they hacked off two years worth of then-recent memories - which in the greater scheme shouldn't matter, except those two years I lost were where the most important part of my history had happened. Including, a girl called June Iparis. The same June I 'first' saw yesterday evening, under that goddy massive JumboTron down on the streets. The same June who teared up when I told her my cracked theory that she was something I'd thought I lost. The same June who was all quiet and mellow on that train trip to Ruby, the same June who stole glances at me during dinner, the same June who threw a polite 'no, thanks' and a smile at me when I offered to take her home afterwards.

Two hours and an intense interrogation on my friend Tess later, I confirmed that June and I were teenaged lovers - or almost-lovers. I confirmed that my brain had played a cruel trick when I woke up after the brain surgery (and the five months of coma which followed) and white-taped our whole time together. I learned that I'd treated June like a complete stranger when she walked into that hospital room to see me. I learned that June had done what she thought was right, and bowed out of my life so that I could start afresh.

I don't know who's more cracked: me and my plan, or her and what she has done for us.

From this 12th story balcony, I can spy on most of Batalla. It's full of high-rises, just like it was those ten years ago. There are jeeps and cars on the streets, and little black dots which are the city patrols. June's patrols. It only took me some questions to figure out what she does nowadays, and a little bit of thinking to create my plan. Today, I am going to do what I did best as a kid. I'm going to show June Iparis that I am still the street boy she fell for those twelve years ago.

I think she still has something for me - well, at least I hope so. But if she doesn't, I know I won't back off this time. I'm going to ask her if she'll give us another chance. If she'll give me one more chance to make her love me again.

I rub the paperclip ring on my right hand, as I set my jaw and turn toward my hotel room to get ready.

* * *

The streets feel more packed than they looked from above, but it's not elbow-to-elbow packed and I have a bit of room to move.

On both sides of this straight street I'm walking, high-rises grow like trees in man-made forests, towering above the pavement. Some of them are alright for scaling, balconies and beams and railings and evacuation ladders rung outside. They're not good enough, though. I haven't seen any city patrol member on this street so far. To get caught, I'll have to scale at snail speed. That would give me away straight out, and I'd rather keep going and find those patrols.

So I soldier on, and keep moving up. A block passes in no time, then another block. Then a left turn, then another block. The city patrol is still nowhere to be seen. The feel of the L.A. summer hits me; afternoon sun shining cheerily on the delicate skin on the back of my neck. I swear I can feel my skin (and probably part of my rearranged brain, underneath) crisping now. I'm dripping sweat on my collar, before I even start scaling. I guess I'll look less than presentable for Lead Commander Iparis, but I don't think she'll mind. She couldn't have minded, if she'd fallen for me in a Lake Sector alley like what Tess told me.

I hope June is still that girl who fell for me, even when I only have fogged up, broken memories of her.

Three blocks after the left turn, I spot my first city patrol member of the day. A young bloke of about twenty with Lieutenant insignias, across the street from where I am. He has no visible guns, only a stunner - and earpieces and microphone, because otherwise he won't look like he's listening to nothing and muttering stuff to no one. I catch his eyes, on purpose. He looks back, suddenly straightening up from his lax stance, and begins speaking louder and faster. I scan the buildings on my side of the street, and smirk. Now is my time.

I break into a run, and slip into the narrow driveway around the side of the third building I pass. Without stopping, I grab onto the first floor balcony railing, and work my way up the network of balconies. Ten stories from the ground, the balconies mould into this huge, rimming ledge, and I walk on my toes on it, around and to the front of the building. I have at least one patrol on my tail now. I can hear the thumps of their boots, and their voices shouting underneath, calling for all things from the fire brigade to helicopters. It crosses my mind, for a split second, that I should probably stop, but at the end the waves of thrill beats it. I haven't scaled a building for the sake of scaling a building in years. I've almost forgotten how good it feels. Before I can even think further, I'm already on another balcony network, climbing my way toward the top of the high-rise. There are only thirty more stories. I should be up there before they could get that goddy helicopter to pull me off.

I'm about to swing up to the tenth from last story, when a familiar voice, calm yet dripping with authority, calls under me.

"Daniel."

My eyes find their way down, to the balcony two stories under - and to June who is balanced on the railing, arms outstretched to grab the balcony above.

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**Next chapter: June.**

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	2. June (1)

**Quick AN: **Thanks for all the love! Three reviews, one follow, 39 visitors in less than 24 hours. We're doing a solid job here, soldiers.

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Marie Lu.

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**June**

_Batalla Hall, Los Angeles_  
_July 12th, 18:05 hours_  
_72 F indoors_

I am sitting on my chair in my rarely-used office, facing the closed door. Behind me is the small window, warm and bright orange with the early summer evening. Before me is a desk (polished wood, three drawers all empty, stack of paper, stationery tray, and box of tissues atop), across which my unexpected problem of the day is sitting.

I had thought Day had had what he wanted by appearing in every nightmare I had last night, but I was wrong. I'd assumed he would give me some days to orientate when he said he hoped to get to know me again, but again I was wrong. Day is as coarse, pure, immediate as he had been as a sixteen year old. And of course, he can't go anywhere without leaving a trail of troubles for the street police to pick up.

Without leaving anything for _me _to pick up.

"Were you aware that I was meant to arrest you?" I try to keep my tone formal, detached, like I did with other suspects I had to deal with.

"Yeah." He dares attempting a smile, that smile of his which never fails to evoke a foreign warmth in me. _Such a cruel boy - a cruel young man. _"That was my intention."

"To get me to arrest you?" I lean forward, putting my best frown, careful not to bend too much. I can't show him he amuses me. This is business. I ought to remind him that scaling up a building for no particular reason isn't an acceptable conduct - even when I'd done it myself when I was fifteen and ignorant.

He leans forward, and rests his lower arms on the desk. "Yeah".

His hand - the right hand, with the paperclip ring I gave him - creeps forward to take mine. It takes everything I have to pull away, to stop whatever is about to happen. One touch, and I'll break. And I cannot break. I am not an adolescent anymore. That part of me who wants to be all giddy and hormonal and silly needs to learn how to calm down.

"And why was that?" I hope Day didn't hear that falter, that hint of a childish smile at the start of my question.

He smirks. _Of course. _Who was I to think that I could fool Day, the only person in the Republic who shares my perfect Trial score? He heard my smile. "Well, I... I guess..."

He pauses, and runs his left hand on his hair. I study his face, and his expression (slight grimace, hints of blushes on cheeks and ears, silent curse to himself), as he closes his eyes, takes a breath, and gathers what I assume is courage. "I just want to get to know you. You _are _an important part of my past, and you... I don't know. The way you behaved last night, it was almost like you wanted to keep a distance. You intrigue me."

"I see that you've learned some fancy words." I can't hold myself back from commenting.

"Intel."

"I know." It's no big secret that Day has been working for the Intelligence Agency in Antarctica since he was twenty. Well, at least to me. Anden is privy to the secret information - and by past association, I am, too.

Silence falls in the room. It takes me a couple of seconds to realize that it's my turn to speak, that Day is waiting for me to explain myself, his blue eyes wide open, cautious, hopeful, and... _hurt_?

I inhale. Here I am, wanting to stop hurting him - and I've done the opposite. _What's wrong with you, June? _"Tess has my address. You could've just visited me. Like..."

_Like on the first day of the Colonies' ceasefire, when you sat outside my door with your crutches. Like on that one and only night we were together that way._

That is too much to say. I swivel in my chair, pretending to glance out at the busy evening streets of Batalla, because I can't let Day see the tears forming in my eyes.

A pause, before a breath. "I must've done a number on you in the past, yeah?"

"We're even." I manage to keep the tears out of my voice. Just barely.

A long pause. "So you're making me pay for what I did to you when I woke up."

"What are you saying?" I know. I know what he's saying. I just want to tell him he is wrong. That it's not my intention.

But if it's not, why am I hurting us like this?

Something is really, really wrong with me.

"I guess I'm just overwhelmed." I leap to my feet, take a breath, and grab a tissue from my desk to dab my face. Any well-trained Agent should've known I'm crying by now - and someone Day's caliber couldn't have missed it. "I never hoped I would see you again."

"Is there... are you with someone else now?" He sounds quiet.

"There was someone else," I tell him the truth, turning around to face him. "There is no one now, though. You're good."

His tense shoulders relax. Then, a smile spreads up his face, lighting up his blue eyes. "Does it mean I can get a date now?"

I check the time on my watch. 18:10 hrs. "I guess you can. But..."

"But?"

His grin is so infectious, that suddenly I'm smiling with him. "I'll have to release you first. You're still under arrest, Mr. Wing."

* * *

_Lake Sector, Los Angeles_  
_19:12 hours_  
_80F outside_

It feels like an odd, perverted, twisted dream, but Day and I are together in Lake Sector, once more.

We walk the streets, hands in pockets despite the warm evening, occupying ourselves with looking at each other and making small talks. We don't talk about the distant past, only the last ten years and the present and what might be in the future. Only what is safe. Yet somehow he knows to avoid the corner of Watson and Figueiroa, keeping a safe distance from it. I know he remembers how his mother died. His doctor, who talked to me ten years ago, told me that.

"This place is so different now," Day says, happy yet mournful, as we walk past the new high school building. It's way past school hours already, and most of the windows are dark, but the open yard is alive with the weekly night market now - food vendors and trinket stalls and other simple pleasures people love.

"It is," I agree. I know the feeling so well. I'd come here nearly every week for the first two years after Day left for Antarctica, and I'd witnessed how Lake Sector evolved from a slum to a suburbia. I even stood by the lake cheering with all the residents, when the Republic turned on the night-time electricity for the first time. "There's been a lot of changes."

"You come here often, yeah?"

_Guilty. _"Yes."

Day makes the turn toward the market entrance. I follow him close behind, watching his shoulder rising and falling with his sharp breaths. He is trying to say something.

"June." He stops. He waits until I catch up, before he starts walking again and continues, "I think I sort of remember things."

My heart leaps. What kind of _things _is he remembering? The way I'd led the street police to his mother's house? The girl who wouldn't tell him her name, who'd drunk cheap nectar wine with him, and let him kiss her under the stars? "What do you remember?"

"Little, random things," he admits, looking a little deflated. There must have been hope - or at least anticipation - in my words. "You don't like that," he starts listing, his eyes darting toward a street vendor who sells fried dough. "You once spray-painted your hair red, although I don't remember why. Then there's a cup of purple tea, somewhere in the haze. It's always the little things, the details - that's one thing I'm good at, I guess."

"They're correct." I throw a glance at a hot dog stall, unattended as its owner is busy taking and handing out orders. The teenaged Day once made me skewer a hot dog from a stall. I wonder if this Day - Daniel - remembers it. "I still don't like fried dough, although I won't mind eating it for survival if I'll ever be on the run from the police again. The red hair was from Vegas, I'd disguised myself as an escort as we tried finding The Patriots. The purple tea was something you saw me drinking the last morning before hell broke loose in Los Angeles."

He lets out a strained chuckle. "Looks like we went on a goddy lot of adventures."

"Enough to last a lifetime," I agree, with my own chuckle. It's odd but I feel relaxed. I think I've forgotten how to let my guard down. "We can make a best-selling trilogy out of them."

"You can write books about us," Day suggests, light-hearted yet burdened. "That'll help me seeing how much I remember."

"One day, maybe." I inch half a step closer to him, because the full-step distance suddenly feels to wide. My heart wants to be right there for his."Right now, I don't have much spare time in hand."

"What's been keeping you busy?" He half-looks, half-winks at me.

"Work, mostly." I look down, feeling a little ashamed that I have no life outside of work. "There's Tess, and there's Pascao, but there's nothing apart from them and work."

"Not even thoughts about me?"

"I tried not to think about you too much. I assumed - I hoped - you were happy in Antarctica."

There's a brief flash of sadness in Day's eyes. "I was happy, yeah," he says, looking up at the stars as if he could project his Antarctican life there. "Apart from the problem that I couldn't seem to find something I'd lost -"

He pauses and shows me his paperclip ring. _My_ paperclip ring.

"You gave me this." He states.

"What makes you think so?" I swallow a lump in my throat. I focus my eyes on the night market around us, on the couples and families and groups of friends weaving their way around. _Focus, June. This might just be a glitch, like the fried dough, the red hair, and the purple tea._

"It felt like the only thing which gave me hope." He shrugs, turning away. He steals a glance at me from the corner of his eyes, uncertain, confused. "Sometimes I would have this feeling that it's the only good left in the world - and I supposedly have a lot of things."

"And what does it have to do with me?" I take a breath, preparing for disappointment.

"Because." He tilts his head, swallowing hard and clenching his fists. _He needs all that he has, to just speak to me_. "Because I saw you on the streets yesterday, _Sweetheart,_ and the world is suddenly good again."

_Sweetheart._

Only Day would call me that.

My eyes are brimming with tears again, but this time I let it all be. Day and I look at each other, lost in our own world, in the midst of this night market crowd. When all the emotions are spent and the noises from reality catch up with us, it's Day who grabs my hand in his, gentle and tight. He twines our fingers together, clutching tight as if he will never let go of me. And I really hope he will never let go.

I clutch his hand back in mine, as we blend together into the crowd like our younger selves would.

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**Next: Day**

**I have a feeling that my June voice is way better than my Day voice, lol (I don't know how Marie Lu created such distinct, equally enjoyable voices for both of them!). As usual, do let me know what you think - there's a little box at the bottom of this page, where you can type in your review and submit with a single click ;). **


	3. Day (2)

**Quick AN: Thanks for all the love Cousins and Patriots! 8 reviews, 6 follows, 2 favorites, 111 visitors in 3 days - this is goddy epic! Special thanks to my beta JuneIparis for all the corrections and suggestions - and for the daily Legend fangirling. Man, I don't know what I'm gonna do without you.**

**Disclaimer: All belongs to Marie Lu.**

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**Day**

**_A week after I found June again._**

An earpiece call from Eden (who's been sneaking in and out of the hotel since last week that I no longer know where he is) comes in right after I got back to the hotel from my daily aimless walk around L.A.

"_Daniel_." He barks, excited as if he's just designed yet another wacky engineering masterpiece. "_They decided to hire me_!"

"Well done, Kid." I smile, even though he can't see me now. "Dad, Mom, and John would've been so proud of you."

"_I take it that you're proud, then._"

"Come on, Kid," I say. There is no way I'm not proud of my little brother. Not with everything he'd been through. "You know I'm always proud of you."

He laughs. "_Yeah, I know. And do you realize what it means?_"

"You're staying." I'm glad he's not around, because I'm smiling so wide my cheeks hurt now. "We'll need to move all our goddy stuff back from Ross City."

"_We?_"

"I'm not going to stay there alone." I shrug to myself. "I'm moving with you."

"_Moving with me, or moving in with June?_"

"I'll try." I grimace, suddenly regretting not being more discreet about June. "It's only been like, four dates. Bet she'll kick me right out. I haven't even been in her apartment."

"_You haven't?_" Eden sounds surprised.

"Yeah." I run my hand on my hair. I've just blabbed to Eden, again. "We've just been going on dates - dinners, movies, walks, those kinds of things. Anyway. What do you want to do to celebrate your new job?"

There's a bit of static, before a sharp breath and an answer. "_I've invited your friends over for dinner. Hope you won't go cracked at me._"

"My friends?" I think I know where Eden is bringing this.

"_Tess, Pascao, June,_" Eden confirms. "_Pascao can't make it - they run night classes at Drake nowadays, new things - but Tess and June said yes._"

"Right." I throw a look around the hotel room. It's an apartment-type thing, with two bedrooms and a living room with a couch and a dining table. After a week, it has started looking like our apartment in Ross City - like it's been lived in by a tornado. "Well, I've got some cleaning up to do then. Are you gonna help?"

"_I've got to be somewhere else, Man, sorry._" Eden sounds genuinely sorry that I can't find it in me to get angry. "_The hotel have cleaners though, maybe you can use their help if it's too much._"

"Shouldn't be too much," I mumble, assessing the damage closer. Apart from clothes and Eden's latest engineering feats strewn all over the floor, table, and chairs, there's nothing to clean. We've never eaten - or cooked or partied - here. "What are we going to do for food?"

"_I'll take care of that,_" says Eden. "_We've still got the wine, right?_"

The wine is a 'welcome home' gift from The Republic, delivered to this room on our first day back. I walk over to the fridge, yank the door open, and spot the dark blue glass bottle there. "Yeah. Untouched."

"_Sorted, then. See you at seven thirty._"

"See -"

Static. Eden has hung up.

I turn my earpiece off and start cleaning the place, because the thought of June walking into this messy den freaks me out a bit.

* * *

Cleaning takes a good hour or so. I shower and lay in bed resting afterwards, although I can't really sleep. I keep finding excuses to look at my pendant, or my ring, or the afternoon sky outside the window. Finally, I give up and head for the balcony, making myself comfortable on the floor. I sit there with my good leg folded and the half-metal one outstretched, watching the last hours of the workday buzzing down on Batalla's streets, behind the two-inch gaps of the balcony railing. One hour passes. Perhaps two. And the whole time, I can't stop thinking.

I'd come along here for Eden. He was the one more keen to be back in L.A., to work for The New Republic. I was pretty happy - or I thought I was pretty happy - in Antarctica. We had real opportunities there, unlike in The Old Republic. I thought we had good lives: real jobs, the acquaintances and the few friends, the occasional girls who came and went, and a happy, peaceful existence. Then, of course, last week happened, and the world turned upside down once more. I think I'm the one more keen to come back home for good now. It doesn't matter that I'll be jobless, doesn't matter that I'll lose the life I've built for the past ten years. All that matters is June. I know I want to spend my life with her, to get to know her and to get to know our past. Even if things don't work out between us, I still want to be around. If she lets me. Even if she doesn't -

I close my eyes and rub my face. _Cracked. _I'm cracked. I'm a goner.

I'm still sitting on the balcony, alone with my thoughts about June and the past I was robbed of, when the door inside buzzes. I think I've lost track of time.

"A moment," I shout, as I walk back through the balcony door. I throw a glance at the clock on the wall as I pass it - 18:45, a bit early - and around the room to check for things I should probably hide. This must be Tess, or June. Eden has his own room key. He doesn't have to buzz. "Coming."

No answer. It's only when I get to the door and peep out of the little hole on the top that I find out it's June, standing alone in her uniform, tense and unsure.

"Hey." I open the door wide for her. "You're early."

"Oh." She startles, looking up. She looks a bit confused. I hope it's just because she'd expected Eden to open the door. "I thought I was late. Eden said six thirty."

_Eden, you sly trot. _I shake my head. June couldn't have heard it wrong from Eden. My brother must've duped her into coming early - for whatever reason there is. "He told me it's seven thirty. You're early."

"I can come back later, if you're not ready." She jerks back a little, shifting uncomfortably in her kick-ass military boots. "Eden must've confused himself."

"He didn't." I don't know what I'm doing, but suddenly I'm catching June's arm in my hand, holding her firm on her spot. "He wanted you to come early. Come in."

June tenses for half a second or so. Then, she takes a breath, nods, and walks in as I step back for her. I notice she has something in her right hand, which has been hidden behind her back. A bottle. A celebration wine, maybe. "Hope I didn't interrupt you."

"Interrupt?" I close the door, as she sets the bottle on the dining table. It is really a celebration wine. "I was just thinking about you, Sweetheart."

She stops on her track. Then, her shoulders slump, and she grabs the chair next to her, as if she is going to fall right on the floor without it. "What was it about me?"

_Goddy hell. What was I saying?_

"I was just thinking about you." I decide not to tell her the details. I walk over to where she is, and take her hand. She keeps her arms slack and her head bowed as I lead her out to the balcony. It is as if she is afraid of something. Afraid of our past.

"What were you up to today?" She tries to distract me, as we stand by the railing and look down.

"Not much," I chuckle. Playing along with her distraction might be the best thing to do now. "Just wandering around, like usual. What were you up to?"

"Working." She makes this scrunched up, adorable face at the sky above us. "We had another important guest from the Colonies today. Unpleasant man all around. It took me a lot not to pistol-whip him in the face."

"What did this trot do?" I lean over the railing on my hands. I know - _somehow_ - that June only pistol-whips people when she needs to.

"He's a megalomaniac." June's face scrunches up again. "He looked down at everyone, yelled at his own staff, and treated his escorting patrol like slaves."

"Sounds like a piece of work." I nod in sympathy. I glance at the dining table inside, at the bottle June just put there. We have enough wine for tonight - and even if we don't, getting more shouldn't be hard. "Want a drink?"

"Sure." She closes her eyes and rubs her temple. I hope it's work, and not our past, which stresses her out like this. "What do you have?"

Instantly, she jerks and opens her eyes, looking sheepish as if she'd said something wrong. It takes me a second or two to realize that my younger self probably didn't like that kind of question. Or any kind of question about choice, or money in general.

"There's water," I take a breath, hoping that she'll realize that she hasn't said anything wrong. "And a bit of purple fruit juice - I think it's orange - and some wine. And tea and coffee."

"I'd have anything you're having." She says, almost too quickly. She turns back to the streets under us, to the cars creeping along and soldiers marching up and and down. "I don't mind."

I don't know if she really doesn't mind, but when I come back with the bottle of wine from the fridge and two wine goblets from the cupboard next to the dining table, she lights up. Looks like the wine is the right choice after all.

"I hope you won't mind the floor." I set up our little wine-bar next to the window. Even though it's summer and scorching hot down on the streets, it's nice and breezy here - one advantage of being high up in the sky. It almost feels like one of those fancy wine bars in Ross City where the Intel usually holds their end-of-year parties, only with real breeze and no-nonsense. And the craziest, most beautiful woman in the world - June Iparis.

"I don't mind." She straightens up, turns around, and sits down next to me on the floor. In the last orange rays of the afternoon, she looks delicate. Beautiful. I wonder if her younger self had the same large, sad, wise eyes which make it hard for me not to grab and kiss her right now. Tess and Eden said June had once given up all she had - her social status, her beliefs, everything she knew about her life - to stand beside me and fight the world with me. Maybe that was what made her so forlorn yet so strong.

And suddenly, in the midst of this permanent haze in my brain, a brief memory resurfaces. There was a dirty street, perhaps a lane, most likely down in Lake. There was another bottle of wine, warm and _cheap _but somehow good-tasting. And there was a dark-haired girl with high ponytail, taking swigs of cheap wine with me, from the same bottle.

"We did something like this before, yeah?" I chuckle to myself, as the memory pulls itself back into the haze. That girl was June. She couldn't have been someone else.

"We did," June confirms. She scoots back toward the window, resting her back against it next to me. "Once upon a time."

I pop open the cork on the dark blue wine bottle, and pour us each a goblet of amber liquid. "Cheers to the past."

She takes her goblet from me, looking unsure for a bit. "Cheers," she eventually mumbles.

We sit there drinking, and topping up, and drinking again for a while, quiet. She keeps me in her peripheral view, and I keep her in mine. There is something unsaid in the air, an elephant too big for this room - or rather this balcony - that eventually I have to ask. "What else did we do together?"

June throws her head back, swallowing a large mouthful of wine. The last mouthful. "A lot of things. I told you we could write a trilogy out of them."

_We'd gotten far. _I can see it in her nostalgic smile, hear it in the echo of her faltering voice, feel it somewhere deep in the haze. And she'd let it all go. She'd let me go, when she was just a girl.

And this is my turn to let everything go.

Before I know what I'm doing, I've pulled her close to me, knocked over the empty goblets and the empty wine bottle, and kissed her like I'd kissed no one else before.

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**Next: June**

**Thanks for reading everyone! Let me know what you think about this chapter - I'd love to hear your feedback. Oh, and a little bit of ad/recommendation here: my beta JuneIparis has an awesome blog, 'Loving The Language of Literacy'. Come and stop by for book reviews and anything YA literature (She even has a 20 min transcript from a signing event with Marie Lu up there!).**

**For those keen to Legend-fangirl or Legend-fanboy with us, we are also on twitter. You can reach me at codesandwrites and JuneIparis at sslluvsbooks. Let's all unite, Patriots!**


	4. June (2)

**AN: **Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and favouriting people. I really appreciate all the love you gave this story. Special thanks to my beta JuneIparis for all the corrections and suggestions. Soldier, The Republic (read: myself) will reward your effort.

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Marie Lu.

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**June**

The sudden kiss feels like a heavy, yet tempting punishment.

I fight logic and keep it out of the way, falling into the rhythm. I savor every contact between us. Day's hands on my cheeks , possessive, loving. His closed eyes under his delicate brows, his lips hot, _desperate _against mine. I close my eyes and open my mouth for him, as he gently parts my lips with his tongue. The part of me who is twenty-seven and grown up yells at me to stop being a lovestruck teen. The part who is sixteen and heartbroken, though, begs me to stay. I sink backwards against the bulletproof-glass window. There are - at least there were - people on the balconies around us, and on the buildings nearby; this is too public. But for once in my adult life, I can't afford to care about anything. It has been too long since the last kiss. Too long. I don't know how I've lasted almost eleven years without. Every fiber of my being sparks alive, waking up from a long winter sleep it didn't know it was in. My face feels wet. I must be crying.

"Huh?" Day mumbles against my mouth.

"Huh?" I open my eyes.

He pulls away, rolling back on his heels. "You're crying."

I wipe my tears on my coat's sleeve. _Stupid, stupid tears. _"I guess. It was too good ."

Day averts his eyes, looking down on the balcony tiles. There is a tiny streak of amber wine on one of them, and a dark blue bottle rolling down the slight slope toward the drain at the corner. The six thousand notes wine goblets stay upright and intact, thankfully. That would have been a stupid waste of money, knocking things over in the heat of the moment.

I straighten up, and smooth my rumpled collar. "We used to kiss like that."

"I know." Day sounds frustrated at himself. His hand finds its way to his hair, again, ruffling it once more. "It feels... it felt just right. My body knows yours."

A loud cough from the living room behind startles us. "Are you two done reuniting?" A voice rings through the open balcony door.

I jerk my head over my shoulder, and see Eden standing in the living room with a sheepish smile on his face. There are deep indents on the carpet, around his boot-clad feet. He's been watching for a while, and neither Day nor I noticed him.

"Well," I recover, standing and picking up the wine goblets. "I know I've said this to you over the earpiece, but congratulations for your new job."

"Thanks again," Eden sounds even more sheepish. I think he'd got more than what he'd expected when he decided to dupe Day and I into spending time alone in a hotel room. "I've got us some food, so let's get the party going."

"Where's Tess?" I look behind Eden, at the brown paper bags of food on the dining table and the empty hallway and living room.

"Bathroom." Eden gestures toward one of the bedrooms - probably his. "She needs to, uh, freshen up a bit. Don't worry. She didn't see that."

"She'd better not have." Day walks in, pulling the balcony door half-shut behind him. He sounds flustered, and annoyed. "Thanks for the lead, Kid."

They then get into what I assume is a friendly banter between brothers. However, I find my mind wandering somewhere else as I unpack the dinner food (light-looking stir-fry and noodles). It's unusual for Tess to spend so much time freshening up before private dinners. The only time I've ever seen her that concerned over her looks was when she was courting with this young doctor, about five years ago. Could it be that she is interested in...

... Eden?

Maybe. If she does, then it's a good thing.

I try to let it all go, and shut out all my theories and calculations and thoughts, as we dig into our dinner and have another round of wine afterwards.

* * *

_Ruby Sector, Los Angeles_  
_00:30 hours, same night_  
_62F indoors, 71F outside_

Despite all the alcohol I had, I can't sleep. I just toss and turn in my bed, over and over again between short snoozes full of dreams and nightmares. When my subconscious takes me back to that street in Batalla where I'd knelt next to Day as he laid bleeding, I know that I should just give up. I need to do something. I can't just let my cruel brain trick me to tears.

I get out of my bed, put on my training gear and boots, and head down to the track on my own. Even after three years, I'm still walking a little too close to the edge of the sidewalk, saving space for Ollie. I miss him. I hope he and Metias are together, somewhere out there. And I hope that they're not watching me right now. I know they will be sad.

The track is empty as it usually is at midnight. I run them over and over again, faster and faster each time, until there's nothing left in me. Each step makes me stronger, yet weaker. Eventually, all that wine catches up, and I stumble back home with a good ache in my legs and head. I barely make it into my living room before I drop straight onto the floor, head spinning and swimming with information and ideas. The little thought boxes in my head are now one big lake of mess. I roll to my back and tilt my head toward the ceiling, painfully aware of the cold layer of sweat between my back and the cherrywood floor, and succumb to the pull of exhaustion.

It seems like I've only been asleep for a minute, when a string of taps on a nearby window sends my body jolting. I open my eyes, only to see the deep blue darkness of the night and the digital clock on my wall showing the numbers 03:13. Who is there at my high-story apartment window, at thirteen minutes part three in the morning?

The taps persist, though. Without wasting more time, I jump up and reach for the shotgun I'd left on the coffee table nearby, and prepare myself for the worst as I stride toward the living room window. It might not be a break-in or assassination attempt - I haven't heard kicks, or anything else which indicates an attempt to get in by force - but I'd better be cautious. Like other high-ranking officers, I have people in the military who hate me or secretly covet my position. It could be someone who wants to see the flash of terror in my eyes as they gun me down.

I creep along the wall next to the window, and pull the edge of the curtain a little to peek. The rapper is standing on my balcony, right at the door. Young male. Light haired. Tall, lanky, with a particular air around him.

... Day. _Of course._

Looks like I'm not the only person who is restless tonight.

I leave the wall, yank the curtains open, and unlock the balcony door for him. He mutters a quiet 'thanks' at me as he gets in, soundless and swift. I gesture at the couch, and he sits down, making himself comfortable despite his obvious discomfort. I notice that he is not on the spot where Ollie used to sleep. It's as if he knows it's someone else's spot.

"Anything I can help you with, Daniel?" I keep my tone formal, because I don't know where this is going.

He seems taken aback. "I just want to talk to you. That's it."

"At three thirteen in the morning?" I sit down across from him, careful to maintain my distance. It's hard not to let myself remember the last few times he dropped by my apartment with 'something to talk about'. That night in Denver, he'd come with a parting gift and lied to me about him and what he'd thought of us. Then, that night here in L.A., in an apartment a block away from here, he'd told me of the Colonies' offer and asked me if I loved him. The past is just that, _the past _- but still, I can't forget. I find my heart racing, my back tensing, my brain screaming in anticipation of the blow.

"Yeah." He glances at the clock on the wall. "It's more like three sixteen now."

"It is." I nod, noting the current time. "What is it, this time?"

He takes a deep breath, and stands up. I can barely keep myself from flinching as he drops down on the couch, inches away from me. For a fleeting moment, I wish I had cared to shower before I succumbed to sleep.

"I've been thinking about us," he says. "Like, a lot. The whole night."

_No, _sixteen year old June screams. _Don't tell me it won't work out, again. _

But twenty seven year old June, who reigns me better nowadays, decides to soldier on. "And?"

Day reaches for my hand, hesitant, _shy. _When I let him, and squeeze his hand back, he relaxes, and says, "I wonder if you'd give us another chance."

"As in a chance of..."

I don't know what to say. I'm at loss of words. Should I say happiness? Relationship? Love?

"A chance of us," Day helps me finishing. He reaches for my other hand, and twists so that he faces me, half-kneeling on the rug under the couch. "What do you think?"

There's an unsaid plea in his voice, a tug which opens the guarded gate of memories in my head. Suddenly, I'm sitting on his bed in that hospital again, absorbing the weight of my promise to God as it dawns on me, folding in the three words I'd never said enough to Day back into my heart.

_Too soon, _twenty seven year old June says. _You don't even know each other anymore._

_But now is our chance, _sixteen year old June says. Her voice rings above my logic, hurt, hopeful. _It's our chance to say those three words every day. Every single moment. Every time it matters, and every time it doesn't._

I close my eyes. Maybe, just for this one time, I can be sixteen again.

"It sounds good," I say. "It sounds really good."

And then Day's lips meet mine, again, and I'm nothing but a piece of glued-on, rawly-repaired broken glass.

* * *

**Next: Day**

**Please review and let me know what you think. Constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated.**


	5. Day (3)

**AN: **Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favouriting everyone. I'm glad that you're liking what I have so far. A very, very special thanks to JuneIparis, Beta extraordinaire, who helped me keeping Day's voice and reactions in check. This goddy cracked author can't thank you enough, Cousin ;).

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Marie Lu. Just borrowing.

* * *

**Day**

_Two months after I climbed up to June's apartment and asked her to give us another chance._

Despite my cracked, juvenile behavior that night, June agreed to be with me straight away. And not only that, she also agreed to find some spare days on her goddy cracked schedule, so that I can take her on our first trip together. Took her a while to shift things around and prepare her Commanders and Captains for her _extended _absence, but she managed to get three free days at the end. _Three. _It's a bit tight, but at the end I worked something out.

We are going to Vegas tonight.

I pack my few stuff into a backpack thirty minutes before six in the afternoon, and leave Eden's new Ruby Sector apartment in time to catch the six-something train to Batalla. I arrive there five minutes early. I spend those minutes grabbing food from the station kiosks (no fried dough) and scanning the news reel on the station's screens. There is nothing big, apart from a headline about The Elector's statement of support for East Australia (who is fighting the bigger, wealthier West Australia for, _surprise surprise, _land) and the plan to send out some aid there. Not the happiest of headlines, yeah, but it's good to see how much The Republic has changed since my days of rebellion. Eleven years ago, we were knocking closed doors for help. Today, we are rallying behind someone else, helping them.

Things are going well.

June meets me at the interstate concourse, at precisely 6:35. Without her uniform and Lead Commander insignia, she looks much younger, much more relaxed. And... _cute, _in her fitted light brown pants and long dark red shirt. As she crashes i nto me and presses her lips on mine, though, I can feel the hard, cold shotgun holstered on her waist, beneath her long shirt. And I know there are other things she keeps hidden, somewhere inside her surprisingly small backpack. I've learned to know, _again, _that 'looks can be deceiving' is indeed true when it comes to June Iparis.

"What other toys do you carry?" I tease her, as we head hand-in-hand to our platform.

"Just the standard." She shrugs, throwing me a mixture of smile and frown. "You don't know what's to come."

_Not knowing what is to come. _"Old story, yeah?"

"Yes." She nods, somewhere between glum and nostalgic. "Old story of our lives."

Then that little shell, the one she always retreats into every time we talk about the past, is there around her again. It isn't too hard I can't get through, but it gets a bit frustrating at times. Between the haze in my brain and that shell, it's hard to get to know the past again.

But is that even important? I should be happy that I get June back, yeah?

I keep the questions to myself like any trot with half a brain would, as we board one of the civilian cars and settle for two forward-facing seats at the back. Out of Intel habits, I begin scanning our travel companions of the night. There is no one suspicious, as far as I can tell - although somehow I can sense that June doesn't think so.

"It'll be fun," I reach for her hand. I feel like telling her that we're fine. "Can't wait to get there."

She smiles, looking normal. There's still this tension in her eyes, but it slowly disappears as our train leaves the station and runs along the track to Vegas. She lets out this soft, delightful laugh as I present the food I've got, and we spend the trip eating and sharing stories, until we slow down just outside of Vegas and a lone JumboTron flashes by the window. It only takes me one look at that now-familiar sadness in June's eyes to know that we'd looked at that JumboTron in our past. June and I _did_ travel to Vegas together - Tess told me that, June sometimes mentions it in passing, and I think I even remember two or three hazy details from it. We must've passed this place as well, and something must've happened then.

"What goddy stupid thing I did here last time?" I try to keep it light-hearted, even when it's hard.

"Nothing." She keeps looking out of the window - or rather at the window, at our reflections over the whizzing streetlights outside. "You were really sick back then. I was the stupid one."

I run my hand on my hair. She is doing it again. I don't hate her, and I won't hate her because of it, but I really want her to stop taking the full responsibility of our past and let me know what part I'd played. _I want to remember. I want to remember us and what we had, because something in me remembers how happy yet sad it made me._

We creep into Vegas station not long after. June and I wait for all other passengers to get off our car, before we follow suit and head out of the station, onto wide streets with bright neon signs and gigantic JumboTrons blaring colors into the deep blue night. Even at this hour of the night, the station and the streets are buzzing with people. Vegas truly never sleeps.

June finds our hotel first try, without one wrong turn or even any faltering step. When I ask her how, she just shrugs and says that she went here several times after I left. Somehow, I feel this stupid, unreasonable jealousy in my head. Between ten years ago and that day two months ago, she wasn't my _anything _- but part of me still wonders who took her here, what they did, and if they'd...

_What am I thinking about?_

I manage to get through check-in and up to our room, before the jealous trot in me takes over and pulls June into this sudden, white-hot, possessive, almost terrifying kiss against the living room wall. I can't bear the thought of someone else's lips on hers, someone else's hands on her skin, someone else's...

She presses a firm hand on my chest, and suddenly I'm back on earth, in a Vegas hotel room, half-straddling June against a bright-red painted wall. _Goddy crap. _What have I done?

I pull away and step back, turning my head toward the glass window at the other end of the room.

"Daniel." I hear the calm, the authority in June's voice. "What is it that bothers you?"

"Nothing," I lie, even when I know it's useless.

She straightens up and steps away from the wall, placing herself between me and the window I try hard to keep my eyes on. She doesn't look angry. She doesn't look sad. She just looks... _calculating._ It dawns on me that she knows what bothers me; she's just waiting for me to say it.

What an unfair woman.

"Well, Commander." I look into her eyes, squaring my shoulders. "I would have been honest to you, if only you had enough honesty in you to tell me the past."

She holds my gaze, and for a moment or two, a flicker of hope arises in me. Then, she opens her mouth - and straight away clams up, closing her eyes and grimacing in what looks like pain.

"I can't." There is an unusual strain in her voice, a glimpse of vulnerability. "You must understand that it'll take time, Daniel. I can't do it like this. Not now."

But I can't take another 'not now'. Not after ten years of not knowing where she was and what she was up to - _or even that she existed_ - and two months of this goddy game of past secrets. What is the purpose of going on pretending nothing wrong has happened - if something had actually gone so wrong she wouldn't even talk about it?

"I'll talk to you again when you're ready, June," I tell her, because there is nothing else to say. "Goodbye for now."

I drop my backpack on the floor, before I run my way toward the window, and begin my climb down to the streets. I don't even have to look back to see that she isn't following me. I know that she won't.

* * *

When I've finally had enough of a run to start seeing things clearly again, it's already past midnight. They've already played the midnight pledge (which isn't mandatory for civilians to recite anymore, I heard) on the JumboTrons, and the sober crowd of off-duty soldiers I saw earlier had turned into a bunch of cracked mess, stumbling around on the pavements shoving each other or trying to eat the life out of some young escorts' faces on poorly lit corners.

My hair is probably a goddy tangle of mess now, all the wind and the way I keep raking it with my fingers, but that's the least of my problems. First, I need to get back to that hotel room, and see if June is still there. Then, depending on the outcome of that, I'll either need to apologize for being such a bitter trot, or set off to find where she's gone.

The walk between whatever-part-of-Vegas-this-is and the hotel feels long and lonely. I had walked many streets by myself in the past, before and after those two years I no longer remember, but none of those walks had ever felt this lonely. It's like I don't know how to walk the streets without June anymore. Like I didn't know who I was, and what I lived for, before I came back home and realized she'd been waiting all along.

I hope I haven't messed us up too much. I don't think I can be on my own again, now that I've found her. I don't want to go back to living what is just half of a life.

I get up to the room the normal way, through the lobby, the lift, and the long, dim corridor. Each step feels heavier than before. I wish I could stop jumping into things before thinking about the outcomes. I am exhausted. I just want to see June's face again.

The living room is completely dark when I walk in, although the window is still wide open. My backpack still lies on the floor where I'd dropped it, untouched. It's as if June knows I would come back here. Whether it's arrogance, whether she just knows me too well - I'm glad that she knows. It feels like a step forward, even if it's a small one.

There are two bedrooms in here, just like in that hotel room Eden and I had in Batalla. Both doors are wide open, although I can see June's belongings on the desk in one of them when I turn the lights on. I pick my backpack up and throw it past the threshold of the free room, and stalk into June's room to see if she's in. The bed is untouched, the wardrobe closed and the curtains drawn, but I see the faint glow under the bathroom door. She is in there.

"June?" I swallow all the bile, the small pride I have, and all the words I said earlier. They taste bitter. "Are you there?"

She doesn't answer, but I hear her. _I hear her calling silently. _My hand is on the doorknob before I can think of anything, and in a second I've opened the door, meeting June's golden-glinted eyes as she stares at me from her perch at the edge of the bathtub.

"You're back." She states, neutral and even.

A sharp surge pushes past the haze in my brain, flashing before me for a brief second before it dies down. _Vegas. A bathroom. June. _Why do I feel this intense heat when we are in this standoff with each other, fully clothed, and grown up?

"What are you doing, fully clothed, in here?" I gaze past her, at the ornate tiles running in a strip along the wall, about three-quarters way up from the floor. I slide my hands further into my pockets, silently praying June doesn't notice anything. I don't want her to think that I'm disrespecting her, or something like that.

"Reminiscing." She stands up, arms wrapped around her body. I fight my reflexes as she strides toward the door, where I'm still standing. "Do you _remember_?"

"I do." I run my hand on my hair, again. _This nervous habit is just so goddy hard to stop_. "I think I once... I once kissed you in a Vegas bathroom."

"Kissed?" June tilts her head, frowning. There is a hint of a relieved smile in her eyes, though. We must've really kissed in a bathroom.

"Yeah." I force myself to look at her. Under the bright neon light, she looks like some otherworldly thing - a sad, beautiful angel of some sort. "Stop this game, Sweetheart. I know I was a downright trot - probably still am - but for chrissake, please stop."

She unwraps her arms, and places her hands on my arms. A strange jolt runs through me. My head feels light. The bright light above us, the white noises humming around us, everything - but June - feels far away. It's as if she's a lake, and I'm drowning in her, not caring whether the world is turning around me.

And then, just like that, I hoist her by her waist and spin around, stumble backwards toward the closed toilet, and let her straddle my fully natural leg as I sit down and start kissing her.

* * *

**Next: June**

**Love it? Hate it? Do let me know. We're halfway through the novella now, and I will aim to update at least weekly - in between figuring out the next chapter of 'Journey', starting two original novels, and drafting a (tentative) oneshot collection about important moments in the Wing-Iparis household ;).**

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**Have a great week!**


	6. June (3)

**AN: **Thanks for reading, following, favouriting, subscribing, kudoing, and reviewing everyone. I really appreciate all the love you give this story. On this occasion, please allow me to express my gratitude to my beta JuneIparis, who helped keeping the passages clear and June's character in check. You are one excellent friend, Soldier.

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Marie Lu. Just borrowing here :).

* * *

**June**

_Las Vegas, Nevada  
__one day after Day and I arrived  
__22:11 hours  
__76 F outside_

Twenty hours and forty seven minutes after the reenactment of our first bathroom kiss, Day and I still have the remnants of last night's passion glowing around us.

It was like a dream, a magical moment which freezes the time and locks the world out of it. I still remember the liberation it brought me, the way it extracted the burden of truth and the pain of the years gone by out of me. We burned together, with the fire and the passion of our past and our present, and everything left unsaid between us.

We had much better control over ourselves this time, that we merely laughed and broke apart and went to our separate beds afterwards . Or, at least, that was what each of us wanted the other to think. I _heard _and _sensed _him. And I know he _sensed _me too, that sly yet shy look he's been throwing me all day.

We spent our morning indoors, discussing last night's fight in the comfort of the living room. I can't say we've reached an agreement of how we would like to solve this lingering issue between us, but at least we've made amends. And I've promised myself that I will fight my guilt and _love _to give Daniel the secret pieces of our past - the truth of _Day _and June. I need to step down from the protector role I'd put myself in. Day - Daniel - doesn't need to be protected from his past anymore. He needs his past.

We are still out on the Vegas strip tonight, going with our afternoon agenda of moving between casinos and just having fun. Day is pressed against my side, his arm protective and possessive around my shoulders. It's almost ridiculous, considering who's got the shotgun and all the other weapons he'd called 'toys' here. But I'm enjoying the safety Day brings me, the shelter that he provides me, and thus I let it be.

"That." He suddenly points his chin at a young escort with jingling costume and phoenix face tattoo, as we walk past Sun Palace. "I saw you in that, once. Probably when you had the red hair."

"You did." I beam at him. "And yes, I had the red hair."

"And my bad leg hurt like goddy hell," he adds, squinting at an airship dock a fair distance from us. "I'd been shot in that leg just before. Yeah?"

Commander Jameson's deranged, rage-blinded face flashes in my memory. And something else comes into focus, something I've tried not to think about too often.

'_Little Iparis,' _I recall her words, _'how much you remind me of myself at your age.'_

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, fighting the chill in my spine. _Focus, June. Jameson is dead, and you are not her. You will never be her._

"Yes," I finally find the composure to answer Day's question. "You got shot in your left leg when you were..."

_When you were trying to keep your mother and brothers safe._

"When I was trying to get soldiers off my Mom and brothers," he picks up where I'd left, sparing me the pain of reliving the seconds I stood still at the corner of Watson and Figueiroa, watching Thomas and Commander Jameson destroying everything. "Right. Vegas was right after that."

_No, _I correct him in my head. _Vegas was after we'd escaped on the day of your execution and sent..._

I let my thoughts trail off and gather my courage. I've promised myself I will give Day the truth, and I have to confess it out loud. "There were other important events in between. You, John, and Eden were sent to custody. You were interrogated, beaten up, then sentenced to death. Then The Patriots broke you out."

"You broke me out."

I stumble clumsily as Day jerks into a stop and pulls me into the dark lane between the two buildings next to us. He leads me farther from the busy strip, into the dim lights of the back street behind the casinos, and turns me to face him when we stop under the a yellow streetlight.

"You broke me out, June," he repeats his words, his blue eyes intense yet _gentle _on me. "I remember parts of that night, and they feel like you."

I fight the urge to bow my head in shame of my past acts. "I couldn't save John."

"I know. The odds were dead stacked against us."

"But I could've chosen to save you all," I admit the one thing I know I should. "Day... _Daniel, _you and John wouldn't have been arrested if it hadn't been for me. Your mother wouldn't have died."

Day's eyes widen, shocked. Then, something flickers in them, and slowly, he settles back to the somber calmness. He nods, even if slightly, and releases my shoulders. Just as I take that one step away to let him grieve, his arm wraps around me again - this time, around my waist.

"Whenever I remember my mother_, _I see the brainwashed trot who shot her," he whispers, soft yet cautious, in my ear. "And the auburn-haired, stone-faced Commander, who ordered it all."

"Thomas and Commander Jameson." I close my eyes. "I worked with them."

"I still have something else to say." Day sounds displeased. "Sometimes, I will also see a third person who tried to stop them. A girl with long, dark hair, pulled into a high ponytail. Did you tell them to shoot my mother, June?"

"No." If there's a saving grace in all that I'd done, then this is it. "I told them not to shoot anyone. It was you I was after, not your fami-"

Someone dashes past us. Then, I feel _it_. A sharp object, whizzing straight toward us. A millisecond later, I've thrown Day and myself backwards onto the ground, away from the knife's path of destruction. I hear the thud and clang, as it hits the streetlight pole behind and falls to the ground. Voices shout all around us, feet jumping and footsteps slamming on the pavement - away from us. I think we've just had the misfortune of standing close to a chase.

"What do you think that was?" Day asks me in disbelief, as we jump to our feet and start chasing the voices by instinct. They are running along this dark backstreet, toward the train station. "They're not street police."

"Gangsters." I pick up speed, as Day starts outrunning me like he always does. I pull out one of my 'toys' - the ankle knife in my right boot - and toss it for him to catch. "They've been forming all over Vegas, it's a social epidemic. We have to stop them before anyone gets killed."

"What do these trots do, exactly?" Day presses on, clutching the hilt of my knife. He has dashed past me again.

I know I'll burn out trying to catch up, thus I let him be and just do the best I can. I pull out the shiniest of my 'toys' - the shotgun - and hold it in my hands. I might need it to disarm someone or to stop someone from doing something they'll thoroughly regret. "Intimidating the weak. Fighting each other. Extorting money from civilians. Trading illegal substances and weapons. Just creating mayhem in general."

Day nods, and pounds on. My lungs start burning as we close the distance between us and the chase party, but I ignore it. I click my microphone on, and send an alert signal to the closest City Patrol headquarter. We are up against too many. I'm not going to risk my life and Day's by being overly arrogant about our capabilities.

My blood thunders in my ear as we finally catch up. The chase has evolved into a hardly fair fight by the station wall, five versus one. The person in the center of the fight, a boy looking no older than fourteen, curls up in a ball around _something _as his five attackers (three men, two women, late teens to early twenties) hammer him with their legs and fists. _I need to distract them. _My eyes dart to the ground, looking for something I can throw - but a sharp whip in the air tells me that Day has beaten me to it. There's a yelp. Then, silence.

There are five pairs of eyes on Day and I now. Five pairs of predatory, hostile eyes glinting with the prospect of a bigger thrill and grudge from the interruption.

Day catches my eyes. His grip on my knife tightens. I see the start of a run in his poise and in his eyes, and a plea in his tense expression, in the single word he mouths to me.

_Run._

I clutch my gun tighter and break into a run alongside him, heading toward the busy main strip.

* * *

**Next: Day**

**Do let me know what you think. I'm happy to hear your feedback.**

**And don't forget to visit my beta JuneIparis's blog, 'Loving the Language of Literacy'. She has awesome stuff there.**


	7. Day (4)

**AN: **Thanks for all the love, Cousins! Sorry for the rather lengthy wait, my beta JuneIparis (lots of thanks and hugs for her) and I have been a little busy at this time of the year. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! We've got 2 more chapters left plus one epilogue, this is drawing to a close :).

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Marie Lu. I'm just borrowing.

* * *

**Day**

I am running down a Vegas alley, just like yesterday.

Today, though, I'm not running away from June. Instead, I'm running with her, away from a bunch of fully cracked trots hell-bent on spilling _any _blood. Let's hope that the young boy we'd helped is smart enough to use the opportunity to run off to safety. I would really flip if June and I ended up risking our necks for nothing, because, for chrissake, I had just found her again.

"STOP THERE, YOU TROTS!"

_Well, who's the trot here?_

Something hurls past me, half an inch away from my arm. I kick the gleaming knife down the drain grate at the side of the street as I run past it, throwing a look over my shoulder. June is still following me, eyes darting and ears open, her pretty face as fierce as fierce can be. Behind her, about fifteen or twenty good feet away, the five trots chasing us are still going, shouting and throwing things like possessed maniacs as they run. _Idiots. They're gonna burn themselves out real soon._

I turn back to the path before me, to the blinking light of the main strip two long throws ahead. The strip is packed tonight, full of soldiers, escorts, civilians, and any other kind of Republic citizens. These gangsters will end up killing an innocent bystander this way. I need to find somewhere else to run to, because leading these stupid trots straight to the strip is just plain tactless.

My eyes scan the sides of the buildings ahead as I dash forward. There's a good looking one near the end, with a wide brim-like ledge between the first and second story. I signal June to follow me as I step on the next building's windowsill and h aul myself up the first story balcony of the next one, balancing myself on the railing as I head for the one with the ledge. As I jump and swing onto that ledge, I can feel her behind me. She lands there a couple of seconds after me, following me swiftly toward the far end of it.

"They're still after us," she says, her voice clear and calm despite her gasping for breath.

"Not surprised." I raise a brow at her.

A brief smile flashes in her eyes, before she turns around and aims her gun forward. Two shadows creep above the ledge not a second later. Some of those trots are here with us.

"Cornered?" One of them, a buff red-headed woman, snickers.

_It's you _who _are cornered, Cousin. _I want to correct her. _Not us._

"Stay where you are," June calmly orders. She steps forward, jamming herself between the gangsters and I. "There are more than five bullets in here, and I'm pretty accurate."

"Kill me if you can, you filthy cop!" Red-headed gangster growls. I tense and crouch into fight position, launching forward as she runs and lunges for June with her knife - but Sweetheart beats me to it. She catches redhead by arm, kicks the knife off the ledge, and pistol-whips redhead with such precision the gangster drops right away. It's not a deadly hit, I know. Redhead will have a killer headache when she wakes up later in her cell, but that won't be her biggest problem.

"I suggest you back off." June turns to the remaining trot. He growls at her in response, and lunges just like his friend did. _Big mistake. _June takes him down just as easily, and he crumples in a heap above his knocked out teammate.

"You should've let me have one, Sweetheart." I wink at June, as she steps back to join me, sweat and stress on her face. "I'm not that bad a fighter nowadays."

"Save it for later," she whips her head hastily. "The three others, they're -"

I see them before she finishes her sentence. Three shadows, boosting themselves up the middle of the ledge. I duck down just in time, as one of them throws his knife at me. It hits the floor with a clatter, just as June jumps over the passed-out trots to fight him and his standing friends. Without hesitation, I get up and join her in the fight. Straight away, a trot goes for my heart. I catch his wrist and twist his knife out of his hand, yanking him toward me as he loses balance and flails over the ledge. His face hits the concrete as I let go, and he lets out a cringeworthy hiss of pain. _Thank the stars I haven't killed him by accident._

Tossing the knife to the far side behind the passed-out trots, I join June in her fight. The two trots she's facing are tougher than the other three. They're still standing, circling June as if they were sharks and she was their prey. I pull the one closest to me - another man - and disarm him like I did his friend. He hits the ground just as June's female opponent drops on her knees against the wall. June tosses me a couple of things from her pocket - plastic wrist ties. _She came prepared, of course. _I throw her a defeated grin as I help her tying those trots' wrists and ankles. The Vegas city patrol officers, who have just bounded into the alley with their stomps and shouts, are having it really easy tonight.

"I'll go talk to the officers." June gestures down, wiping her trickling sweat on her short sleeve. There's a slight tremble on her lips as she backs off toward the balcony we swung up from. "You should go back and rest."

"Let me come with you." I tug the tie on the last trot's ankle, and stand up to join her. My skin still tingles from the thrill of the chase and fight. Right now I have nothing to fear. "They'll want to hear from both of us."

"I'll take care of it," June insists, snapping. "Go back, Daniel."

She's gone before I can hold her back. Stashing her knife in my boot, I follow her down. Let June get angry all she wants. I don't need her permission, and _for chrissake_ she needs me. I'm not going to let her face anything alone again. I'd used up all my allowance leaving her alone in L.A. for ten years, and I don't have any other leeway.

A soldier about my age salutes June as I land on the gravel. "Commander Iparis," he says.

June salutes him back. I stalk toward them and stand a few steps behind her, a little bit to the left so that the soldiers see me. They need to know June is with me. If they are going to give her any sort of trouble...

"All five perpetrators are above the ledge," June's voice cuts my thoughts. _Right. _She is the Lead Commander of California. Even if the Nevadan squads don't report to her, they will have some sort of respect for her. She totally can handle this. "They are disarmed and restrained, you will just need to arrest them. You will find some of their weapons nearby, and some others along the chase trail. I trust that you've got my location information."

"Yes Sir," the soldier bows his head. He glances past June's shoulder, straight at me, before turning back to June and solemnly asks, "is there anything we can do for you and Mr. Wing?"

I guess I'm officially Lincoln-level famous now, yeah? Even strangers know who I am.

June looks over her shoulder, as calm and firm as she has always been. "We are fine, thank you. We are heading back where we are staying. I will submit a formal report once I am back on duty."

They exchange salutes. Then, the soldier turns around and starts briefing his patrol, and June reaches for my hand, half-dragging and half-leading me away from the attack scene. Her trembling has returned. As we merge back onto the well-lit strip, passing the confused bystanders staring at the fuss in the alley, I finally see why. There is a blooming dark patch on her black shirt, on her left shoulder.

"You took a hit," I whisper to her, as I pry my wrist - as gently as I can - out of her grasp.

"I know." She sounds tense, yet distant. "Superficial. Should be okay with some antiseptic. I'm no Tess, but I know how to bandage."

_That agitation_. Why is she so upset?

She's gone quiet, so I just walk next to her, trying to put together the pieces of this goddy puzzle. Is it me? Or is it the past me? Is it us, or is it someone else?

I run my fingers through my hair, because I don't know what to do.

* * *

June lasts as long as it takes us to get back to our hotel room and close the door behind us. Then, the trembling gets the better out of her.

"Could you help?" She looks up at me, shame in her eyes, as she sags against the wall on her good shoulder. "I don't think I can do this alone."

"... yeah, sure." I take a breath, and glance at the open door to June's room. I'll have to cut a large chunk off shirt to check - but first, I have to find her medical kit. "It's in there, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

She looks so confused, so shaken, that I know better than to frown at how June Iparis, perfect prodigy, missed my question. "Your medical kit, I mean," I say.

"Oh." She blinks, looking down straight annoyed at herself. "Yes. I hid it in my backpack."

Taking another breath, I stand up and head for her room. The backpack itself is hidden in a wardrobe drawer. The vacuum storage bags folded inside explains how she fit all her clothes and things inside this standard-sized pack. I take them out, pull out the medical kit (which isn't vacuumed, I guess because you can't really shrink it without destroying anything), and replace the bags before I head back for June.

She has moved off the floor and onto the couch now, her eyes wide and empty. She barely looks up as I sit next to her, and doesn't even notice my slightly hitched breath as I pull her knife out of my boot and cut her shirt around the blooming patch. I don't think she even feels the sting of the battle-grade antiseptic as I press the sterile wipe over her shoulder. She doesn't even flinch.

"It's shallow," I tell her, after I've cleared up the blood and check the extent of the injury. "I'll just put iodine and bandage it."

She nods. I have a feeling I can just tell her that I'll toss her off the balcony, and she'll still nod. _Goddy hell. _What's happening here?

"June," I shake her lightly, on her good shoulder. "Wake up."

"I'm awake." She sounds like a machine on autopilot. "Just go on."

It's frustrating, but her shoulder is calling for attention. So I tend to it first. Once I've wrapped her shoulder, I put the kit away and move over to the other couch to see her face better. Her eyes are glassy. _Distant. _Could it be that...

"June." I grab her right shoulder. "The knife they cut you with. It was poisoned."

"It wasn't." She blinks. Two drops of tears fall off her eyes. _Great. Whatever I do, I always make her cry. _"I know what this is. I think I've gone into shock."

If I was less confused, I would probably laugh. No one but June cantalk about their shock _while_ they are in it. But I'm confused as, and thus I can only ask, "why?"

"Metias."

_Her brother. _She mentioned him several times, and Tess told me the general story. Captain Metias Iparis is long dead, secretly executed by The Old Republic after he hacked into some civilian databases. "Is that how he died?" I slowly understand. "A knife? To the shoulder?"

June whips her head toward me, quick and _angry. _My haphazard plan to get her over her shock has worked.

I stand up and follow her as she strides over to the window and shoves it open, letting cool midnight air flow into the room. She closes her eyes and takes several breaths. Her half-maimed shirt falls open around the wounded shoulder, leaving part of her chest exposed. Without thinking, I take my shirt off and drape it over her. As she clutches my shirt tight and meets my eyes, something clicks.

_I was in a hospital, running down a locked-down emergency stairwell - escaping the police. There are precious things in my shirt. My only hope was a window above my head, and a pair of knives in my hands._

_I threw one knife at the wall and used it to climb up to the window. The window shattered as I jumped out. I had a long fall, and cracked some ribs when I landed on a back alley. Street police was still after me, thus I ran down the alley to find escape. Then, a young Captain I'd seen earlier spotted me and chased me. He had me cornered, gun pointed, right when I was about to scurry down a sewer. I aimed my last knife at his shoulder and threw. It hit him where I aimed, and he fell backwards from the impact._

_I knew his name was Metias, somehow._

"June." I swallow some seriously bitter bile. "Was I involved in your brother's murder?"

* * *

**Next: June**

**Thanks for reading everyone. Do let me know what you think - I'm open to constructive criticism. Please use signed reviews/leave means for me to contact you if you have questions - sometimes readers would ask me questions, and I won't know how to reach them! Have a stellar weekend there :).**


	8. June (4)

**AN: **Thank you for the love, readers. I appreciate the kind words of encouragement you gave me. I would also like to take another moment to express my gratitude toward my wonderful beta JuneIparis, who puts up with my nagging and never hesitates to tell me the truth. You are an irreplaceable member of this team, Soldier :).

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Marie Lu. Just borrowing here.

* * *

**June**

"_Was I involved in your brother's murder?_"

The question hits me just like I had anticipated it would, jarring, burning like lightning striking a tree. I feel half-dead, half-alive. I know I'm breathing, hard and fast. I know I'm clutching the windowsill for my life. I know Day - Daniel - is right before me. I see his eyes, one perfect and one rippled, as blue as the ocean. His voice floats somewhere in my nerves, urging, echoing, asking .

And I have the answer in me. I just have to coax it out, to gather the courage to tell him our story.

"Well-phrased question," I begin, after some long seconds. Sentences form in my brain, and the heavy burden gets lighter. I've regained my composure. "To answer it, my brother was stabbed through his heart. And yes, you were indirectly involved."

Day nods, looking hurt yet resigned. "It was my knife. I'd thrown it at his shoulder that night."

"It was." Images begin to form in my mind, presenting the dark alley and Metias's lifeless body on the ground, his funeral where I had sat among my real enemies, Thomas's confession in two different prison cells, Commander Jameson's body hitting the ground. "But it was Thomas who plunged it to Metias's heart. And it was Commander Jameson who'd ordered my brother killed."

"We'd lost our families to the same people." Day notes his observation. Now that my senses are back, I can see his tense back relaxing, the fragile glass bubble around him dissipating. "You said you went after me, yeah?"

"I did," I breathe out. I feel unbelievably light now. Confessing my unforgivable mistakes, to the one person who suffered the consequences, has liberated me off the burden I'd carried around for eleven years and ten months. "I disguised myself and went to the streets at Lake. Commander Jameson framed you for my brother's murder, and I'd believed her."

Day turns around to lean against the wall next to him. He looks calm. As if he's seen the story coming - as if he _remembers, _deep down. He asks, "when did you realize it wasn't me?"

"When it was too late." The words flow out just like that. I see Day's mother now, falling onto the pavement with a bullet in her head. "I'd tricked you into thinking I was your friend, turned you and your family in to our enemies, and even got you sentenced to death."

Day nods. "Then you decided to break me out, when you knew the truth."

"You and your brother," I correct him. Another series of images form in my mind, this time of John. John in the cell, offering to trade what he could with his little brother's life. John helping Day and I down the halls, as time ticked above our heads. John taking Day's blindfold, and his place in front of the firing squad. John's death broadcasted on the JumboTrons. "I almost got John out. _Almost._"

Day closes his eyes, and breathes in deeply. "I think I remember giving you hell about it."

"You did." I try not to think of those dark hours in L.A.'s outskirts, and in the trainyard afterwards. "And I was giving myself a hard time too."

He nods, and looks at me again. "How did the rest of the story go?"

I tell him. I tell Day that we had gone to Vegas after the Patriots, found them, and gotten involved in a plot to assassinate Anden. I tell Day that we'd foiled the plan and turned in the traitors instead, because we'd believed in our new Elector. I tell Day that we'd separated afterwards - but not _why_, because it remains his story to tell. I tell him how we'd reunited in the brink of a war with the Colonies, staged a surrender, and got caught in a battle in the streets of L.A. That is all he needs to know. I don't need to tell him about what we were, about the kind and hurtful words we'd said to each other, about the stolen kisses and the only time we were one. There will be a time for it, but for now, he doesn't need to know yet. If this is a new start, then let it be a new start.

Throughout my story, Day remains silent. He reaches for my hand, once I finish my last sentence and silence falls. I give my hand to him and follow him as he leads me to my room. He settles us on my bed, his gentle, careful arms wrapped around me.

"You wanna hear something unusual?" He whispers.

"Tell me." I press my face on his chest, despite my own fear and uncertainty of us and the future.

"I think you're too smart for your own good."

I laugh. "It crosses my mind sometimes."

He pulls me even closer, even tighter, tactfully avoiding my injured shoulder. "If you'd been less smart, you wouldn't have let me walk away after all of those. You would have followed me to Antarctica, or do something to keep me here in The Republic."

I nuzzle in, savoring our closeness. He can talk all he wants now. I'm exhausted and in heaven, and I'm not going to leave soon.

"I'm glad you're this smart, though," Day continues, planting a kiss on my head. "There was a saying about this, something or rather - I think the fact that I lost you for ten years makes me realize just how much I'd loved you."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." I smile against his chest. "And no, that wasn't my intention. I told you I'd never hoped to see you again, remember?"

He takes a deep breath. "June." There's a heavy edge in his voice. "Thank you."

"For?" That's unnecessary, but I need to ask.

"For... for your protection, I guess." He gently pushes me up, and tilts my chin toward him. "But I don't need it anymore. I'm no longer that broken boy you knew. He got over things years ago."

"And what do you want now?" Another unnecessary question. I guess a combination of shock and hidden emotions has turned me a bit wordy.

"Sleep?" He raises a brow.

I laugh, and let him kiss me, before we do just what he wants. We fall asleep together, wrapped around each other, our dirty boots up on the hotel bed.

* * *

_Las Vegas, Nevada_  
_The morning after_  
_08:18 hours_  
_71 F indoors_

A single buzz from the doorbell. The loss of a familiar warmth. Three familiar voices in the living room.

I open my eyes to bright sunrays under the window, and a whispered conversation just outside my door.

"She's alright," I hear Day whispering. "She had a bit of a shock reaction yesterday, but she'll be just fine. She's still asleep now."

I get out of bed and button down Day's open shirt I have on, and head to the closed door. The bedroom door has no peeping hole, or anything large enough to look out of, but as one of the other two voices speak up, I know who our visitors are. I know they are in Vegas this week for an international conference.

I take care to change out of Day's shirt and my own torn one, and redo my mussed-up ponytail before I step out to meet our important guests.

They are just about to leave when I get to the living room. Out of their formal attires, they look just like another couple dropping by their old friends' place. Maybe that's just what they are doing, checking on an injured friend.

"Elector," I bow a little at them. "Senator Fedelma."

"Commander Iparis." Anden sounds as smooth, as sure as ever. "How are you this morning?"

"I am feeling much better, thank you." I keep my tone formal, despite the rush of nostalgia which hits me. It is a strange feeling, standing in the same room with a former lover and our respective new lovers. "There is nothing serious to worry about."

"I trust that Mr. Wing is taking a good care of you," Faline says good-naturedly.

"He is," I acknowledge, throwing Day a brief glance as I observe Faline. She is dressed in a structured civilian dress this morning, demure enough for a future First Lady of The Republic, yet bold enough to assert her independence. She has been a Senator for five years now, following her father's footsteps. She is the perfect woman for Anden - way above what I'd ever been for our Elector.

"I apologize that we couldn't stay longer, Commander." Anden sounds genuinely sorry. "But today's first session starts at eight thirty, and I'm afraid Faline and I have to leave now."

"It's fine," I smile. "I understand. I hope to see you both in Los Angeles in the near future."

We exchange salutes, and then Anden and Faline are gone. Day pulls me close for a kiss as soon as the footsteps on the hallway disappear. The edge of jealousy in his kiss tells me that he knows who our visitors truly were.

"He kissed you, yeah?" Day stares at me, as we sit down on a couch.

"Did he?" I try to be playful.

"I saw it in some kind of recording. Like a security camera." Day runs a hand on his hair. He grimaces, then chuckles to himself. "Was it some cracked illusion?"

I take his hand, and squeeze it in mine. "It wasn't. It did happen. It was when I was helping you assassinating him."

Day chuckles again. "Our story's just... long-winded."

"Full of twists," I agree, studying his expression. He looks amused. And jealous. And sad. And ten to twenty other things. I didn't know that one can have that many emotions in their face all at once.

"Well," he says with a huge grin, some moments later. "But we are here , yeah?"

"We are."

We look at each other for what feels like a minute. Then, just like that, he takes me in his arms and kisses me again, this time with more fire, more history, more of everything. Without warning, without caution, we've fallen down that spiral again, down to our cores. I see only him. He sees only me.

I don't need to tell him what I want, and he doesn't need to tell me. Without breaking apart more than a second, we head back to my room and bring our reunion full circle.

* * *

**Next: Day (5)**


	9. Day (5)

**AN: **Hello Cousins, a double update this time around! Special thanks to my beta JuneIparis for everything, an awesome young lady, that one :).

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Marie Lu, just borrowing here :).

* * *

**Day**

It's not that I'd always been single throughout my years in Ross City.

During the first few years, there had been girls here and there. All kind of girls, really. But I'd never been able to stay in a 'relationship' thing for more than a couple of weeks. They had always felt wrong, for one or other reasons. By the time I turned twenty four, I'd come to terms with the idea that I wasn't built for long-term relationships. So I made myself content with the occasional casual dates - careful, light dates, with no strings attached and no promises of any kind of future.

Looking back to those days now, I am grateful I'd never found anyone else. I guess I've always known, somewhere deep in the haze, that I belong to someone.

A brave, crazy, selfless yet selfish girl named June Iparis.

There is nothing else in this world but her. Her eyes, large and dark, glinting with gold and a sweet sadness. Her voice, soft yet strong as she talks to me and only me. Her body, warm and _familiar _as we mold together. I am gone. I am lost. I am burning and I am burnt.

We crash together when there is nothing left in us, tangled in the sheets. The room's wooden floor is almost entirely sunlit now. I think it's somewhere around midday. Our hitched breaths fill the air. June looks up at me through her long lashes, _delicate, _shy.

"Hey sweetheart." I kiss her temple.

"You're staying, aren't you?" She asks.

"Not going anywhere soon." I nuzzle her neck to underline my words. "I'm in heaven."

She sighs and smiles. Then, she pulls me close to her, holding me tight as we slowly fall asleep.

* * *

I wake up to an empty bed, and open curtains letting what looks like early afternoon sun into the room.

For a long moment, I thought I'm in Ross City again, waking up alone after a sweet, sweet dream. Then, as if on cue, someone turns on the shower in the bathroom, and I know it wasn't a dream. I'm still here in Las Vegas, with the woman of my dreams. The woman I want to spend my life with.

I sit up and hold the two things I've held onto all these years, the pendant and the paperclip ring. My father gave me the pendant. He was the one who'd first stoked the fire which got me here today, the rebellion in me. And June gave me the ring. I still can't remember where she gave it to me and why, but she invoked that hope in me. This little thing must've shown me the light through those darkest hours, the way it now reflects the sunlight.

And suddenly, I want to give her the same light. I want to let her know that I'm done. I want to wake up next to her every day, to live my life with her, the way we should have been, should be, and should always be.

I grab my pants from the floor, yank them on, and stride to the desk. It's clear, except for June's hairbrush and her few beauty items, thus I pull the drawer open. It holds papers and pen, and two of the thing I'm after. That's halfway through, which is good.

I close it, and head over to my room to repeat the search. I find a single one there, hidden in a dark corner of the drawer. Only one. I need one more.

I work my remaining brain cells hard as I stash the drawer's contents back in. _Paperclip. _Where in a hotel room will you find a paperclip, outside of the bedroom drawer? There is no other visible drawer, except the cutlery drawer near the dining table. Perhaps I can work some fork prong, or something...

Then I remember _it._

During my first years in Ross City, my doctors made me carry a real copy of my medical report _everywhere _I went. They were dead worried I would develop a so-called 'adverse reaction' to the heavy drugs they put me on, in a place where people don't have glasses or eye-chip. The report is a thin stack of paper, about four or five sheets only. Bound with, _of course,_ a paperclip. The small silvery kind June made my ring out of.

I'm no longer on those drugs now, but I still keep the med report. Just as a keepsake, I guess. A reminder that I'd once almost died. I took it with me when I left for Los Angeles, tucked in the front pocket of my backpack.

... the same backpack lying next to my feet now, half-open after my hasty search for a shirt this morning. _I have a paperclip in there, if this patched-up brain remembers correctly._

Before the next thought even begins, I'm crouched on the floor, pulling the front pocket zipper open. There are a couple of other things in there, and I find myself pulling out my Antarctican Intel badge, trinkets from places I'd been to, and my crumpled attempts on journals - before I find the yellowing report, curled around the corners and bound with a paperclip.

I have four paperclips now.

A thrill courses through me. Scrambling, I dash back to June's bedroom, to the place I need to be now. My hands tremble, but I manage to work them quick enough, careful enough, to unfurl and twist the clips together. It's easier than I thought. It's as if I _remember _how to.

I don't know how it happened, but before my blood even slows down, I've got a paperclip ring ready and waiting for June to come out.

The bathroom door opens not a minute later, letting out a small cloud of steam and a faint smell of some fruity body wash. June stares at me as she walks out, wrapped in one of those towel bathrobes hung in the hotel wardrobe, her hair damp and loose around her shoulders. There's that certain look in her eyes which tells me I look just goddy weird, but I don't give a damn. I just walk over to her, into the bright light from outside, and hold my hand open.

"I made you one," I say, although her widening eyes tell me that I don't need to. She _understands_. "Now, we can match each other."

She makes this half-strangled sob. "_Daniel._"

I pull her hand - her left hand - and slide the ring on the fourth finger. "I know you probably think I'm goddy cracked." The words just flow out of me, out of the haze and out of the clear. "But this is long overdue now, and I think I should. June Iparis, I love you."

June stands still, frozen. Then, her eyes begin glistening, and she crashes onto me with open arms, holding me tight as I hold her tight.

"I love you," she whispers. "I love you. I love you."

"So," I go on to the next part. The important one. "Do you want to... get married?"

Her carefree laughter fills the room. "Only if it's to you."

"Yeah," I laugh back, feeling happier than I'd been in many, many years. "I guess I should've said: would you marry me."

She answers me with a kiss. Then we laugh some more, and kiss some more, and laugh some more until the past and the pain are nothing but a dark patch in a room full of light.

* * *

Our story will never be simple. But somewhere along the way, we've found each other and this love has begun, and we've now known nothing would ever end it.

We'll love each other, always.

* * *

**Next: June (Epilogue)**


	10. June (Epilogue)

**AN: **Three in a row, Soldiers. Special thanks to JuneIparis, who made this all happen.

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Marie Lu. I'm just borrowing.

* * *

**Twenty Years Later  
****June**

_Batalla Sector, Los Angeles_  
_September 18_  
_18:05 hrs_  
_62 F indoors_

Today is my wedding anniversary. I have been Day's wife for nineteen years now.

We were married in a simple military ceremony, exactly a year after his impromptu proposal. Since then, we'd had eighteen anniversaries, each of which was memorable in its own way. We would go and celebrate in the evening, but never before had we visited our parents and our older brothers at their gravesites. It just felt wrong to let the day go without remembering them.

Day meets me at my Batalla Hall office after we finish work for the day, and we make our way on foot to the funeral tower. We share stories of our day and have a good laugh along the way, just like we do on other days of the year. It's only when we reach the front steps of the tower that we let the somber mood take over. He takes my hand, after we'd shown our I.D.s to the door guard and gotten into the lift to the twelfth floor. We'd moved all the grave markers and the ashes here eight years ago, after our two oldest daughters pointed out that their grandparents and uncles would have loved to know each other, if they didn't already .

We start off with my parents, because it's always easier with them. Day stands by me, as I greet my Mom and Dad, and tell them that I am well, that their fourth and youngest granddaughter Elsa is now speaking full sentences with correct grammar, that our Elector Anden Stavropoulos is still leading The Republic towards the better and fairer. Then, Day and I move on to Day's parents, and switch roles. I keep silent and squeeze Day's hand, as he holds back his tears and tells them about his work as the Director of Intelligence, about me - his 'amazing' Defense Secretary wife - and about our second daughter Rose who is 'Heaven's reminder to all the troubles he's ever caused them'. Then we move on and do the hardest part of the visit, our older brothers who'd protected us with everything they had. We go to John first this year. It's easier than last year, and much easier than those first few years, but it still hurts.

"Hey Man." Day's voice is thick with emotion as he speaks. "Hope you get to have some time for yourself there."

The words echo through the empty room and in my head, and I use the silence to wonder what John would be like today if only we'd gotten him out. He would look at least somewhat like Day, I think. My brother-in-law would have had a much better life than he did as a nineteen year old, with a real career somewhere and perhaps a wife and some children. His seven nieces and nephews would have adored him. There are so many if-onlys, so many chances wasted.

"My kids remind me of how we were, every day," Day continues, pulling me back to the present. I'm standing next to my husband and his brother now, a close outsider in their silent conversation. "The eldest, Dawn, always has to step in to save the second's hide. And the third, Maya, sometimes sounds like you. Have you been whispering to her in her sleep?"

Of the four daughters Day and I are blessed with, Maya is the one who resembles her uncles most. Gentle, patient, selfless, and fiercely protective - with a streak of Eden-esque genius.

"Eden's all the rage in engineering world now," Day proceeds to tell John about their little brother. He talks about Eden's steady career as Head of Innovation in the Engineering Department, about Tess and the three boys, about how it feels to be the last two standing. There are some more things Day talks about after that, things I've lost track of in the whirlwind of grief and acceptance. Day reaches out to me for comfort once he is done speaking, and I hold him in my arms for a while, before we break apart and head for our last stop of the day.

Metias.

Day lets me sit down on the floor and stands behind me, his legs close enough for me to lean on. He knows that I will never be able to speak to Metias standing. I reach for Day's left hand with mine and twine our fingers together, our titanium wedding rings - specially designed to look like those paperclip rings we'd put in a deposit box for safekeeping - clinking together as we hold hands.

"Hi Metias." I inhale, and burn my brother's engraved name in my brain. _Captain Metias Iparis. _"I've been someone's wife for nineteen years today. Can you believe it? Your arrogant, selfish little sister, married with four kids? "

I think I hear a gentle laughter, and some kind words about my character. I smile. My brother would always have something good to say about me.

"Whenever I see my eldest with my youngest, I think about you." I breathe out. Dawn, my eighteen year old firstborn, is the 'Metias' to her three year old baby sister Elsa's 'June'. They even look their parts, with some small exceptions. "You would've been amused."

Another gentle laughter. My brother is still watching me, reaching me through imprinted memories the way he could no longer do through his words. _One day, we'll meet again, and he'll speak to me the way he used to. _But for now, I'll just tell him my family stories of the year, of the brief holiday Day and I got to have a couple of months back, of the funny moments when I caught the girls red-handed with their mischief , of fifteen year old Rose's seventeenth conduct warning from Drake, of thirteen year old Maya's first attempts in hacking, of Dawn and Elsa and their word games and secret codes. Of everything Metias would love to know.

Day scoops me up in his arms and kisses my head when I'm done, letting us dwell in our emotions. It was Metias's death which brought Day and I together, that first time. It was bittersweet that I had to lose my brother to find myself, but the love I found along the way had made it way more bearable than it could've been.

Day and I step out into Batalla square twelve minutes later, into the early autumn twilight. The somberness has slowly dissolved, and we are happy again. We are heading back to Batalla Hall, where we are supposed to meet our daughters. Day told me Dawn had called him on earpiece earlier, saying she and her sisters have an anniversary surprise for us.

"Is it truly a child's responsibility to help her parents celebrating their anniversary?" I ask Day, still feeling awed. I'd never had to do it for my parents, but again, I never really had the opportunity. They were gone before I could comprehend the meaning of romantic love, least an anniversary.

"That's what Dawn thinks." Day turns to me, his blue eyes alive with amusement. "I thought you would've gotten her, sweetheart. Dawn's your kid."

I clear my throat, and try to look as straight-faced as I can. "Last time I checked, Director Wing, you played a huge role in creating her."

"My contribution is minimum." Day lowers his voice and winks. "Tiny drop in the ocean."

I smack him on his shoulder, because he can still be inappropriate at times.

Batalla Hall is rather empty when we get back there. It's already close to 19:00 hrs, and most staff members must have gone home to their families. The Elector and The First Lady are most likely still in, though. Day and I run across their eighteen year old son (who is one of Rose's closest friends, from high school to Drake), who is taking his fourteen year old brother and five year old sister for a quick family dinner in their parents' office.

"The middle boy is going to be the Elector Primo one day," Day quietly tells me, once we are out of the Stavropoulos-Fedelma children's earshot.

"He is the heir," I agree. "Although I don't think his parents are that keen to let their children into politics."

"How does that work?" Day looks amused.

I look back at him. "We did try talking Rose out of enlisting for Special Forces, didn't we?"

Day runs his hand on his hair. He had been the one more concerned about our daughter's choice of a life on the mission front. "It's too dangerous."

I smile. "You got the point, Director."

He shrugs. "Yeah. I guess. I don't know."

I give his hand a squeeze, as we take the lift up to the Princeps's Staff Headquarters. Dawn had said she would get her sisters from Drake and from the daycare and take them to her office. We've never discussed this, but I know that Dawn's superior and mentor, Princeps Mariana Dupree, is secretly fond of all my four children. _Life does take a lot of unexpected turns._

"I'll bet you fifty notes that Rose's taking home another warning," Day says, as we get out of the lift and make our way down the long hallway.

"No, thanks," I decline. "I know, as well as you do, that she has been up to something."

The hushed conversation we hear when we arrive at Dawn's office door confirms we've been right all along. I throw Day a sharp glare as I hear a line about 'ziplining campus buildings to bail out of a class', because it is clearly something Rose had gotten from _him._

Day clears his throat and ignores me, turning to the door before us. He raps it three times, then once more with a little more force, and the voices inside the office stops. A small person with clumsy footsteps run to the door, jumping on the handle and pulling it open full-force. She lands with a stumble and stands beaming on the doorway as her 'little Mom' Dawn holds the door open behind her. I kneel down before my baby, and scoop her up in my arms. Elsa is growing stronger every day, and soon I won't be able to hold her like this anymore. Thus I indulge myself in my last few months of this 'pick me up, Mom!' games. Day and I hadn't expected Elsa the way we'd expected her sisters, but she came to us nevertheless, our precious penultimate baby.

"What were you up to, my lady?" I hear Day asking Rose, as I put Elsa down on the carpeted floor and let her run back to her oldest sister, who guides her to the middle of the room where Maya is.

"Just a small thing," Rose's easy, 'I-do-not-care' voice streams from the wall behind Dawn's desk. I straighten up and cross my arms on my chest, looking at her nonchalant face (_Why does she have to look so much like Day? She's making it hard for me to be stern_). She falters a little under my glare, but quickly recovers, pulls herself away from the wall she's been leaning on, and greets me. "Hi Mom."

"Rose Kaede Wing, what did you do?" Not that I haven't heard it anyway, but I need to hear it from her.

"A little ziplining?" Rose shrugs, as if it's just a small adventure. "Just wanted to test my rope launcher. That's all."

"We'll talk about this later." I let out a mental huff, reminding myself of the young girl I once was. Rose is _a bit _like me, after all. "I hope you'll get to your studies tonight."

"Studies? Mom, wha..."

"I'll make sure she learns things," Dawn cuts Rose off, ruffling her second sister's short, dark hair with such authority Rose clams up. "You guys should just enjoy your anniversary gift."

Sweet, gentle Maya, with golden-glinted ocean eyes, a swaying dark braid, and her uncles' fierce love, lets go of her baby sister Elsa's hand. She crosses the room toward Day and I, presenting us the thick envelope she has in her hands. "Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad."

"Thank you, M." I take the envelope from her, glancing at Day. _He is involved in this. _I can see it in his eyes. He may fool all the lie detectors he wants, but he'll never fool me. "What do you have in store for us?"

Maya looks over her shoulder, at her older sisters.

"Ask Dawn," Rose shrugs, elbowing her big sister - _on the ribs. _"She was the one who thought everything out. I just helped messing things around."

_At least, she can admit that she can be a nuisance sometimes. _"Dawn?"

Dawn smiles. "You'll see it yourself," she says. She strides over and ushers Day and I out of her office, back to the hallway. "Wait until you're out in the square before you open it. Hope you'll like the gift."

Then she closes the door, and locks it before I could turn around (_When did I get this slow? Or is it my girls getting faster?_). Day laughs, probably at my confused expression, and pulls me gently back to the lift. In what feels like just five minutes, we are back in the square, among the dwindling crowd of soldiers and officials.

"Open it, sweetheart." He whispers in my ear, standing close to me with his hands in his pockets. "I have a feeling we'll need hours for this."

He _definitely _knows what this is. At least, the big picture of it.

"If you say." I tear the envelope open. There is a bundle of paper there, stacked and folded over one another. I pull it out, unfold it, and skim through the sheets. The one on top is a letter from a publisher, something about a three-book contract or rather. The next ones are annotated excerpts from what look like a novel, a _familiar _semi-biographic novel...

My daughters have been hacking into my personal filer.

"I'm going to kill you all." I glare up at Day, my cheeks heating from the embarrassment.

"Later, sweetheart." Day chuckles, and pecks me on my lips. "We have an adventure to go on now."

I glance back to the top of the second sheet, and read more carefully. The paragraphs I'd written, of the story of fifteen year old June and Day, have been highlighted, underlined, and amended with short instructions. "Tracking. Are we playing detectives?"

Day laughs, and leads me toward the train station. "It's called a Treasure Hunt outside the forces, sweetheart. Let's go. We've got enough to do for the whole goddy night."

**The End**

* * *

**So, here we are, at the end of our little journey. Thanks to all of you for reading, reviewing, favouriting, following, kudo-ing, commenting - and loving this story. Between the last chapter and this one, there is a lot more of Iparing romance to be told - but for now, this is it. Time and inspiration permit, I will probably write more stories about Daniel and June and their prodigious, precocious bunch. Obviously I need more research into children's behaviours and (especially) raising genius children with stubborn-and-emotional streak, as well as politics, marine/Navy SEAL, boy kings, and pair figure skating (I'll let you ponder this, and guess which daughter will turn a skater) - so this might be a long journey on its own.**

**If you have one-shot ideas that you would like me to write, or anything Iparing in general, please feel free to PM me. I also exist on Twitter (codesandwrites), so feel free to follow me so that we can Legend-fangirl together with JuneIparis (sslluvsbooks). Hope you all have an awesome weekend there, Cousins and Soldiers, and stay awesome! **

**- Nath -**


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